


Playing the Game

by vampiretimes



Category: Dracula (TV 2020)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Did you know there was a scientific term for cumming blood?, Dubious Consent, Ejaculating Blood, Extremely Dubious Consent, First Time Blow Jobs, He was literally begging on his knees for Dracula to spare him, Hematospermia, I sure didn't until I wrote this!, M/M, Shocked no one else had written this yet tbh, Vampires, What Have I Done, What else were we supposed to do with that?, anyway have fun!, anyway...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22474795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampiretimes/pseuds/vampiretimes
Summary: Jonathan strikes a bargain with the Count.
Relationships: Dracula/Jonathan Harker
Comments: 9
Kudos: 196





	Playing the Game

**Author's Note:**

> Please mind the tags, this one kind of got out of hand real quick. It's a bit disjointed, and messy in more ways than one, but I think that works well for Jonathan's own thoughts on the whole situation.

_Think fast._ Jonathan was never one for thinking on his feet, but in that moment, he knew he had to. All he had left were his wits, or at least whatever was left of them, and he was not going to let Dracula go and wreak havoc on England. So the first step to stopping him was making sure that he, Jonathan, the one man who knew the Count’s dastardly plan, made it out of this situation. And though he wasn’t quick, he had been paying attention. Aware, somewhere under the surface, of all those lingering glances, laughs that were just a little bit too loud, surreptitious touches... and finally, the pieces clicked into place. Like the sheets of paper forming the map, Jonathan patched together a plan and took his first step into a heretofore unexplored passageway.

\--

“What if… what if we made a deal instead?”

The Count hesitates at this. He’s interested. The lawyer has surprised him. Jonathan would smile if it wouldn’t give him away.

“A deal. What, Johnny, could you possibly have to offer me?”

He has already crawled out of the patch of light and into the dark shadow. He is already lost. He has nothing more to lose. So he makes his offer.

“Something you haven’t had—at least not willingly, I’d presume—in a long time…” Jonathan moves his left hand slightly, untangles it from Dracula’s robe, moves it just a few inches to the side… and clasps the Count’s hand.

“Oh Johnny, this? You’d do this for me?”

The Count, as Jonathan suspected, jumps at the bait. His message has been received, loud and clear.

Jonathan continues, emboldened.

“If you promise… you have to promise not to kill me afterwards. I- I mean, why would you, on the chance you could have this again? It doesn’t have to be a one time thing, there could be a repeat performance… But you can’t kill me, not… not permanently, anyway. If, if you change me, you have to be gentle…”

“Alright. And?” The Count is gripping Jonathan’s hand hard now, digging his sharp nails into his skin.

“And you can’t hurt her.”

“Who, Johnny? I can’t hurt who?”

The Count taunts him, and it hurts, but he pushes on.

“I… I… can’t remember her name. But… you know who I mean, you can’t… You have to leave her out of this, you have to spare her. Or you don’t get me.”

He punctuates his last sentence by moving his face just a hair’s breadth closer to Dracula, looking up again into those soulless eyes. This has to work. It’s his last chance.

“And that’s all you want, then? I spare your precious Mina and make sure that your own end isn’t too grisly, and you’ll let me drink my fill from an entire country?”

Jonathan’s throat is tight, but he doesn’t see any other way out of this. And the Count’s said her name now. _Mina._ He holds onto it as long as he can. The though of her gives him comfort as he replies.

“Yes,” he whispers.

“Oh Johnny…” The Count stoops down and kisses his forehead. It is uncharacteristically tender, almost sickeningly so. “I accept.”

A pregnant pause.

“But you do have to uphold your own part of the bargain…”

With that, Dracula tangles his free hand insistently in what little is left of Jonathan’s hair. He forces Jonathan’s face exactly where he wants it, level with his crotch. And then he removes his hand from Jonathan’s head and begins unbuttoning his trousers.

 _“How the hell is this even going to work,”_ Jonathan thinks to himself, almost giddy with nerves, overjoyed that his plan worked, somehow, that he’s bought himself more time… _“when the man doesn’t have a heartbeat? No pulse? No blood pressure, no blood? At least no blood of his own, anyway...”_ Time had felt frozen for the last few moments, and now it catches up with him all at once and his mind begins to race.

But the biology of it doesn’t seem to matter, as despite it all, Dracula is indeed hard. Perhaps it has something to do with the fresh blood he’s been consuming, taking so much from Jonathan already. It has enlivened him, given him youth, why might it not bring one of the other aspects of youthfulness, a youthful virility, back to him? And despite himself, Jonathan doesn’t entirely dread the task at hand. _At mouth?_ Physically, he’s up to it, he’s more than up to it. He’d heard of things like this, at school or at pubs long after dark, illicit things that no gentleman should know of, but he’d been… curious. And now, here, at the end of his life ( _the beginning of his undeath?_ ), it is that curiosity that will save him, it seems.

He examines Dracula’s cock, now exposed, the black fabric of his cape and trousers drawn aside. He presumes he should treat it as he himself would want to be handled, but he’s never tried to make his own pleasure last long. Furtive strokes in the school dormitories late at night after everyone else had long been asleep have conditioned him to make quick work of himself when his own needs became too great, never lingering on the sensation for too long before guilt and shame and disgust can flood back into his system. Pleasure was something to be saved for one’s wedding night, after all. (In some sick way, he wondered if this was part of why Dracula had wanted him to be his “bride” all along.) But in this case, he assumes he should make it last, because it could all be a trick. Dracula might kill him anyway if he doesn’t provide enough of a distraction. He has to incentivize the man, make himself useful.

And so he begins with a cursory, slow lick up the shaft. The vampire’s skin is cool to the touch, but not unpleasantly so. He tastes merely of skin, with a hint of salt and a slightly metallic aftertaste. Dracula has no tell that might indicate whether the motion had been satisfying for him or not, so Jonathan continues licking, hoping to draw some sort of sound from the man above him. He does seem stiffer now, and when Jonathan’s tongue hits a specific spot under the head of his cock, he jolts as if shocked by electricity. Taking this as a good sign, Jonathan concentrates his attention there for a bit, swirling his tongue around as if he were eating some sort of rich dessert and savoring every moment of it. The feeling on his tongue is unique, and it does feel perversely like a treat, something sweet and forbidden. Licking his lips, he moves upwards, trailing kisses up towards the base and then beyond into where a soft trail of dark hair begins on the pale skin of the vampire’s stomach. He moves around quite a bit, exploring, experimenting.

Losing himself in the sensation of it, he only comes back down when he feels Dracula’s hand tighten on the back of his neck, providing slight pressure and forcing him ever closer. Even without speaking, his meaning is crystal clear—Jonathan needs to get to the main course. Jonathan isn’t really sure what to do about his teeth getting in the way, which he thinks is ironic considering Dracula’s own fangs and the trouble they have caused him over the past few weeks. But he tries to keep his teeth out of it regardless as he takes a deep breath in through his nose and allows Dracula to enter his mouth. The vampire waits for Jonathan to adjust for a moment before drawing back a bit, then pressing forward again. Slowly, but firmly, Dracula fucks his mouth, and Jonathan tries to keep himself from gagging on his length. It’s such a strange sensation, something completely new, and Jonathan still isn’t really sure how to react other than losing himself in the physicality of it. He’s not really sure if he’s doing this right? He’s definitely drooling a bit, which he thinks is a bit undignified, but considering the circumstances…

Almost as if he could read minds, Dracula speaks soothingly to him as he says “It’s okay if this is your first time, Johnny, it’s mine too… well, my first with a man who’s conscious and isn’t utterly terrified, anyway. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. You’re doing very well.” Jonathan would come back with a cutting reply if he could, but his mouth is otherwise occupied. He does move his lips back though to graze the barest hint of teeth against Dracula in retaliation, and though he cannot look up, he feels the vampire’s grip on him tighten and can almost sense the smirk he is no doubt sporting.

Realizing that his other hand need not hang uselessly at his side, Jonathan moves it up and wraps his fingers around Dracula’s length. This takes some of the pressure off his throat, so the Count can’t thrust as deeply, and Jonathan feels like he’s regained some measly level of control over the situation. Hands he’s had plenty of first _hand_ experience with; this he can do. He keeps up the action with his tongue on the head and simultaneously gives the shaft a twist, and Dracula gasps. The vampire seems to have been shocked into the long-forgotten human habit of breathing, panting now as Jonathan speeds up. His muscles tense and Jonathan knows what’s coming, steels himself for it, and finally the younger man feels something thick and sticky on his tongue. It tastes metallic, like iron, but it is not wholly unpleasant. It’s surprisingly warm, and there's so _much_ of it. He pulls away and wipes the corner of his mouth on his hand, but he is surprised when he sees what look like traces of blood there. _Guess that explains that,_ he thinks to himself, feeling oddly as if he should be a bit more shocked about this whole affair.

But he feels fine. He feels _good_ , actually. He hates to admit it, but the blood he has just partially swallowed may have given him some of his strength back. Was it his own blood, or that of some poor peasant from a nearby village? He supposes it doesn’t matter, as whoever’s blood it had been, it had become Dracula's in the end… and now it was his. The cycle of lives.

He feels as if he is able to stand on his own, so he does. Eye-level with Dracula now, he sees that the Count is still recovering. Blood is life, or lives, or maybe even a life force? Something like that, the Count had said, he remembers now. It follows that losing blood necessarily leaves one temporarily weakened, anyway. Dracula's hand has slipped from his own, the hand in his hair no longer has as much of the iron grip that it had to begin with. 

Jonathan could strike now, while Dracula is weak. The thought crosses his mind. But he has nothing to use as a weapon, and he himself is still unsteady.

Besides, his end of the bargain is paid off.

All that is left to do is see if Dracula reciprocates.


End file.
